


All Work and No Play

by flyicarus



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Slash, pre-serum!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 10:34:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyicarus/pseuds/flyicarus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Steve's birthday, and all that he could ask for is to spend some time with Bucky. Unluckily for him, Bucky's working at his job on the docks, so Steve comes up with the next best thing - bringing his friend some lunch. It doesn't go the way Steve imagined, being taken aback by Bucky's gorgeous body having come unexpectedly, but it's still one of the best birthdays that Steve's ever had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Work and No Play

**Author's Note:**

  * For [putthebottledown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/putthebottledown/gifts).



> This fic is based on an AU that I created with my friend Paisley, wherein Bucky was adopted by Sarah Rogers (who didn't die) and was raised/grew up with Steve. Along the way, of course, the two fell in love, and are at the time of this fic in an established if relatively secret relationship.
> 
> This is also a birthday gift for Paisley - love you, girl. Hope the coming days are better for you. :)

_July 4th, 1940_

 

 

+

 

  
  
The sun beat down on Steve’s shoulders and neck as he walked along the shimmering sidewalks in the city. His mother had advised against walking, as the weather was ridiculously warm and she didn’t want his asthma acting up when he was somewhere in the city that he probably wouldn’t get help, but he’d explained carefully that it’d do him some good to walk, and if he got overheated or if his chest started to feel tight, then he’d duck inside some shop until he felt alright again. There were plenty of places like that along the way, he assured, and it really wasn’t too far to the docks, maybe a good hour’s walk, or an hour and a half if he had to take it slow for awhile; he really could use the exercise. Sarah had nodded eventually, instructing him to give Bucky her love -- for that, of course, was the whole purpose of this walk, which, admittedly, Steve wasn’t as confident about as he pretended.  
  
But, it was his birthday, and he wanted to see Bucky; his friend was the one good part of every day when things seemed to go wrong, and he knew that his mother felt badly that she couldn’t do overmuch for him for his birthday, and he was twenty this year, a man already, and if he got out of the house Steve figured that it might make things easier for her. After all, he wasn’t hanging around moping, he was going to have lunch with his friend, and no one knew better than Sarah how happy Bucky Barnes was capable of making Steve. It had been almost ten years since Sarah had adopted Bucky, and Steve was sure that it was one of the best things to ever happen to him; to Bucky as well, who was as good a son to Sarah as anyone could ever have hoped.  
  
As luck would have it, Bucky was working today, down at the docks. _Working_. It was Steve’s birthday and Bucky was working, and while Steve didn’t begrudge him that at all, because money was tight and they could all use every cent that they had, he did want to spend some time with him at least, time alone, without Steve’s mother. It made Steve blush to think it, but he wanted to be close to Bucky in ways that probably weren’t the best to act out in front of immediate family. He knew that Sarah knew there was something between him and Bucky, and his friend had led him to believe that she’d even encouraged him, but it wasn’t something that they really talked about - yet. Steve knew that they’d have to, someday, because she was his mother and they were close and things like that mattered, but for now, the silence was good.  
  
It being a holiday and all, the streets of New York were a bit crowded, but being so small, Steve had no problem navigating his way along the sidewalks, and at times was even grateful for the taller people around him - they provided him with a bit of shade. He’d found himself humming under his breath, switching the small pail that he held from hand to hand when one got particularly sweaty or tired of holding it. His original idea had been to bring Bucky lunch, which is why he’d set out before the sun was high in the sky, but with the temperature being what it was, Steve had to adjust his plan to stop at the nearest deli to the docks and buy food there to bring to Bucky. He knew that his friend would throw a little fit over that; it was Steve’s birthday and he was buying Bucky food? He wouldn’t stand for it, and would probably insist on paying him back or making it up somehow, which Steve didn’t necessarily mind. It was nice, in a way; he knew that Bucky couldn’t afford a gift of any sort, the slightly older man had made that clear, and it didn’t make him sad in the least. What was important to him, he assured himself as he ducked down an alley, was just that he got to spend time with the people he cared about; any small thing was just icing on the cake.  
  
The bell on the local church chimed noon, a flock of pigeons scattering and wheeling through the sky; Steve glanced up and willed himself to remember what that looked like, for he could sketch it later, and there was something beautiful about the dark shapes fluttering by a steeple, the sky blue and cloudless behind them. Sighing quietly, Steve saw the deli and made his way past a particularly rough looking knot of people to enter into it, grateful for the fact that it was more than slightly cooler than outside. He pushed his hair back from his forehead and stepped up to the counter, looking over what was on sale; if he just got a ham and cheese with some pickles, then he could definitely afford two colas and Bucky’s favourite sandwich, something else that he knew that Bucky wouldn’t be pleased with; he could practically hear him now.  
  
 _“Spending more money on me than yourself on your birthday, Steve? God, you’re a piece of work, you little punk...”_  
  
Smiling slightly, Steve gave his order to the deli attendant and then stepped away briefly to the back of the store, where the refrigerators with the cola were. He debated getting beer for Bucky, but figured it was probably best for him not to drink, even a little, while he was on the job, so he stuck with the colas. When he came back round to the front, the sandwiches were nearly ready, and he lucked out because the attendant had been told to get rid of the last of the pickles, so they were wrapped in wax paper and put in the pail alongside their colas and sandwiches. Steve flipped the lid shut and then reached into his pocket, pulling out the part of his savings that he was using; once more he remembered that Bucky might be mildly, affectionately annoyed, but he decided that it didn’t matter. As he handed over the payment for the food, he reminded himself that it was his birthday, after all, and Bucky would just have to deal with it.  
  
From the deli to the docks was a matter of a ten minute walk, the likes of which brought Steve’s spirits up. He was minutes away from seeing Bucky, he knew that he took a break at noon, and it was his birthday and did he mention that he’d be seeing Bucky? They didn’t label what they were, though Steve knew that Bucky loved him, and that feeling was very much mutual, which in his mind was all that counted.  
  
Looking around, Steve was greeted by the sight and sound of other dock workers shoving each other and otherwise roughhousing playfully, exchanging ribald jokes, and settling down on various boxes scattered around the dock as they opened their own lunch pails. Many of them were missing shirts, which Steve chalked up to the heat of the day; it must’ve been oppressive to work in any sort of attire, do heavy lifting and whatnot, so it was obviously the more comfortable choice. Working in a local grocer’s, this wasn’t a problem Steve himself ran into all that often, but for stronger men who were better fit to manual labor, it must’ve been better. He kept an eye out for Bucky, biting his lip lightly; surely Bucky would be around, this was the area he typically worked.  
  
After a few more minutes of slightly anxious looking around, Bucky appeared from between two rows of shipping containers, head thrown back in raucous laughter at some joke or another that a co-worker had told him. It wasn’t the laugh that had caught Steve’s attention, although he would’ve known it anywhere, or the bright flash of teeth in the smile on Bucky’s face, which was definitely one of his favourite things about the other man. Rather, it was the conspicuous state of Bucky’s undress; he wasn’t wearing a shirt (again, not unusual in light of the weather and the nature of his work) but it was more than that. His skin was covered with a light sheen of sweat, and Steve wasn’t a fool, nor was he innocent - he’d seen Bucky without clothes times beyond count, had traced his body with his fingertips and felt the new muscle and defined lines that came with manual labor, lines and muscles he’d never have, and marveled at it. But _seeing it_ , especially like this, made something in Steve’s body go hot, and his mouth dried. He wet his lips and tried to find his voice, incredibly grateful in that moment for the fact that Bucky was his, and no one else’s.  
  
“Bucky,” he said, but it was only a whisper. “Bucky!” he tried again, this time his voice and tone finding traction and causing his friend to turn from a conversation and toward him, a hand curving against his forehead to shield him from the sun’s glare. He looked surprised to see Steve, and then so miraculously and completely pleased, that Steve felt himself grin a little, no doubt looking like an idiot, but he’d never been able to really help himself from that rush of pleasure. He didn’t have anyone else, except for his mother, who he felt - although her love was genuine - was rather obligated to care for him, to be happy to see him. Bucky gave himself to Steve freely, in every possible way that could imply, and it was one of if not the best thing in his life.  
  
“Steve!” Bucky called, waving off his coworker and taking a few loping strides over to wear Steve stood, awkwardly switching the pail from hand to hand. “What’re you doing here?” His eyes flicked down to the pail, then back to Steve’s face, his hand subconsciously going out to brush his hair away from his damp forehead. “You brought me lunch?”  
  
Steve nodded. “You forgot to make some this morning when you left, so I thought it might be nice to bring you some.” He smiled, faint and tentative, very conscious of the fact that Bucky was sweaty and shirtless in front of him, the two of them standing so close. And people around them, too, possibly watching them, although Steve knew that in all likelihood they were preoccupied with their own business. He was already known to a few of them as Bucky’s brother, so any affection that might otherwise have betrayed them could be brushed off as familial, if very close at that.  
  
“That’s swell, Steve,” Bucky replied, grinning a little. “Only thing I like more than you is food, and that’s a fact.” He took the pail from Steve’s hand and flipped open the lid a crack, seeing what was inside; Steve couldn’t have missed the small frown and light furrowing of the brow as Bucky put two and two together, with the sight of the wrapped sandwiches and pickles, the bottles of cola. “You bought this?”  
  
“With my money. I just wanted to see you, and you weren’t gonna be around until supper at least. I was going to just make you lunch but I couldn’t have carried it in the heat without it spoiling,” Steve explained, and when that did nothing to assuage the small crinkle above the bridge of Bucky’s nose, he added stubbornly, “It’s my birthday.”  
  
Bucky looked at him sternly for a moment, silently admonishing him for using that line against him, but then he laughed, full and bright, slinging his arm around Steve’s shoulders and hauling him against his side. “You’re a punk, you know that? Let’s get you out of this sun, birthday boy, we don’t want you to burn.” Smiling faintly, a slight blush high on his cheeks at the feeling of being held so close to Bucky’s warm, very shirtless body, Steve followed Bucky along the docks, until they reached a section of worn wood that was close enough to the sand that they could jump down. Bucky jumped down first, of course, setting the pail down in the pebbled sand and holding his arms out to Steve, who frowned, indignant.  
  
“You’re not going to catch me, Buck,” he said, shifting until he was sitting down on the wood of the dock and hopping down, making a quiet noise when Bucky caught him anyway. “Bucky-”  
  
“Oh, hush,” Bucky said mildly, setting him down after a few second’s pause (not to mention a quick peck to his cheek) and ruffling his hair. “No one can see, and I just wanted to hold you for a minute.”  
  
Steve huffed quietly, though he found himself grinning - how could he stop himself, when the wonderful man beside him had said something so sweet? (Bucky would call it simple, and get flustered at being called sweet, as he always did - in his opinion, it was Steve who carried all the virtues and he who carried all the vices, which Steve knew to be patently untrue.) When Bucky saw his grin, he picked up the pail and put his arm back around Steve’s shoulders, guiding him under the docks. The water was low here, practically non-existent where the sandbar was, and all they encountered were small pools and eddies that barely got their shoes wet. It didn’t even smell like low tide, as Steve thought it might; it was wonderful, actually, and cooler than above, which he was appreciative off. The sunlight filtered through slats in the wood, casting shadows and odd slivers of light, and after another moment, Bucky guided Steve over to a few dilapidated if solid wooden boxes stacked next to a support beam.  
  
“This is nice, yeah?” Bucky said, pulling away a bit and setting the pail down on one of the boxes, stretching a little before turning to Steve with a smile on his face. Distracted by the subtle rippling and shifting of Bucky’s muscles as he’d stretched, Steve didn’t respond for a few seconds, though he blinked and nodded. “Yeah,” he replied, scuffing his shoe against the sand. “It’s cooler here, and I certainly don’t mind that it’s a bit dark. The sun was real hot on the walk over.”  
  
Bucky frowned again, this time not even bothering to hint at what he was going to do, and picked Steve up easily, setting him on one of the boxes before hopping up himself. It was obvious the thought didn’t sit well with him, and his next words made certain the thought in Steve’s head. “You walked over? You coulda had an attack, Steve, what with how hot and far it is,” Bucky continued, raising his voice over an indignant protest of Steve’s, “I have some money, I was gonna buy lunch. You can use that to take the train back, okay?”  
  
His tone brooked no argument, so Steve just sighed and nodded a little. He always felt just the tiniest bit dejected after one of these mild scoldings from Bucky; he knew that his friend was just trying to look after him, make sure that he didn’t get sick or hurt himself, and Steve appreciated that, more than he could say. His mother and Bucky were the only people that really cared enough to do so, but all the same, Steve didn’t like feeling too small or weak.  
  
“Hey,” murmured Bucky quietly, nudging Steve’s ribs with his elbow lightly. “I didn’t mean anything by it...”  
  
“I know you didn’t,” Steve replied, glancing over with a small smile. “You’re just trying to take care of me. Truth be told, my chest was starting to feel a bit tight. Taking the train from the nearest station is a good idea. I’ll pay you back.”  
  
“It’s your birthday,” came the easy reply, and he rolled his eyes affectionately at Bucky, who opened up the pail and handed the sandwiches to Steve to unwrap while Bucky dealt with the caps on the cola (something Steve nearly always had trouble with; it had become one of their small routines.) After the soft pop of the cola bottles being opened, Bucky discarded the caps in the sand at their feet and held one out to Steve, who took it gratefully, and had a long drink, sighing contentedly before he set his bottle aside.  
  
“Got you the cold reuben,” he said, somewhat proudly as he held out Bucky’s sandwich for him. “With the chicken and extra cheese, just the way you like it.”  
  
Bucky grinned, happily taking the sandwich from Steve’s hands and setting one half down so he could take a more than generous bite of the other. Steve scrunched his nose a little distastefully; reubens were far from his favourite, being that he disliked both corned beef and sauerkraut. “Better save some of your soda for after,” he said lightly, picking up half of his own sandwich and taking a bite, leaning back against the support beam and relaxing a bit.  
  
“What for?” Bucky asked indignantly around a mouthful of food.  
  
“Not gonna kiss you if you taste like your sandwich,” Steve returned, smiling a little at Bucky before tucking into his sandwich; his friend made a noncommittal noise, which Steve took to mean that he would indeed be saving some of his cola for later, which Bucky always did. No kisses seemed like one of the worst sentences Steve could ever pass down on Bucky, who loved kissing him so much that it kind of bewildered Steve. What could ever be so great about kissing him? He couldn’t understand it, but then again, like most things with Bucky, Steve had just learned to take it on faith.  
  
They were silent as they continued to eat their food. Bucky must've been hungry, having been at work since five that morning and not having much of a breakfast, because he wouldn't let Steve cook for him as he usually did, and Steve himself had been too excited by planning to surprise Bucky at lunch to eat more than a slice of toast and a couple of pieces of an apple that Bucky had cut up. The sandwich was good, the company and the cool atmosphere beneath the docks even better, and Steve felt himself relax, felt his lungs loosen up, and if he asked himself if he could have a better day on his birthday, the answer would most definitely have been no. Matter of the fact was, Steve often felt that any moments spent with Bucky were better than moments he could've spent elsewhere or with anyone, and he was more than reasonably certain that he'd always feel that way.  
  
Of course, even as they ate, Steve was very much aware of Bucky's state of undress. It was more than just the fact that he was shirtless, but rather the fact that his torso, his arms, excited such a feeling equal parts ardor and adoration in Steve, one that he couldn't quite suppress. They wouldn't be able to do anything intimate tonight, not until Sarah left early in the morning to spend a week with her sister and her family in Philadelphia. Bucky always felt odd doing intimate things when Sarah was just down the hall anyway. "Your mom's been good to me, Steve, real good," he'd put it one time. "I don't want to break her trust by getting frisky with her son less then fifteen feet away. Doesn't feel right." Steve understood that feeling perfectly well, and respected it; of course, that just left him more than eager for any moments the two of them could get alone, when he could touch Bucky, could get his fill of what had very quickly become something unquenchable.  
  
"You think I look good, Steve?" Bucky asked suddenly as Steve finished his sandwich, long since having finished his own. Steve nodded, unwrapping the pickles and picking a spear up, taking a few bites before responding.  
  
"Yeah, Buck. I think you look great, why, you looking to impress some dames tonight at the dance hall?"  
  
It was a joke between them, now; the women. Before telling Steve that the only person he could ever want was him, Bucky had become quite a bit of a ladies man in his late teens, dancing and going out on dates with a seemingly endless stream of girls, none of whom were interesting enough (to Bucky; Steve wouldn't dare disparage such kind women, and they must've been kind, to deal with Bucky, he joked) to warrant a second glance. Bucky rolled his eyes, nudging Steve's side again. "No dames, Stevie," he murmured, slipping in his childhood nickname. "Just you."  
  
"I'm plenty impressed," Steve said honestly, finishing one pickle and reaching for another. "You do look good, Bucky. Really good."  
  
Bucky smiled, taking his own pickle and chomping down dutifully, making a few pleased noises as he did so. Steve knew that it made Bucky happy to know that Steve was attracted to him; he figured that it had something to do with the fact that Bucky thought that he was the best person in the whole world, and if he had Steve's high opinion, then that was all that mattered. He glanced over, silently appreciating the defined lines and muscles of Bucky's arms, and he chewed idly at the pickle in his hand, getting lost in trying to remember these details for later, when he got home and he could sketch out studies of Bucky's arms, his stomach, his chest. Once more his thoughts were interrupted by Bucky, tone slightly concerned. "I think you did get a bit of colour after all, Steve," he murmured, "It'll be good for you to take the train back." His fingers brushing against Steve's slightly pink cheek, though the hue deepened at Bucky's words, which was of course when the other man caught on.  
  
Taking a sip of his cola to fortify himself, Steve made a face at Bucky's surprised laughter, though of course he thought the sight absolutely gorgeous. "I'm making you blush, just by being like this?" he asked, somewhat incredulous. Steve nodded, taking another sip before setting his bottle aside.  
  
"'s not funny," he said, slightly defensive without really meaning it. There was no reason to be on the defensive when there was no offense meant, and Steve knew better than anyone that the last thing Bucky would ever do was be malicious to him even in the slightest. "You're gorgeous, Buck," he added, somewhat quietly, glancing over at his friend, who sat turned toward Steve, his face filled with wonder. He wasn't sure what was so awe inspiring about him desiring Bucky, it was no secret that his body was the superior one, everyone thought Bucky was handsome, and always had, at that.  
  
"It's a pity I can't brag about this to everyone I know," Bucky said genuinely, reaching for his bottle of cola. "Steve Rogers thinks I'm gorgeous." He let out a low whistle and then tipped the bottle back, swigging down the rest of it. Steve licked his bottom lip as he watched Bucky's adam's apple shift with each generous swallow, and all of a sudden he couldn't resist the temptation any longer, not that he would've had to anyway, with the way Bucky was drinking his cola - he knew that meant Bucky was trying to wash away the taste of his reuben, which meant kissing. Once Bucky had set aside his bottle, Steve climbed gingerly into his lap, knees bracketing the other man's hips. The surprised, albeit pleased, noise that Bucky let out was extremely gratifying, and Steve wound his arms loosely around Bucky's neck, playing with the hair at the nape.  
  
"Steve-" Bucky began, glancing around them; beneath the docks it was oddly empty and quiet, and even looking above them there weren't a lot of men about.  
  
"Like you said, Bucky, no one can see," Steve murmured, ducking his head to kiss along the sharp line of Bucky's jaw. "And it is my birthday, after all," he reminded gently, if a little cheekily. Bucky huffed a laugh, tilting his head to the side a bit. This was dangerous, they both knew it, and ordinarily Steve wouldn't have even considered risking it, except - Like he'd said, today was his birthday, and he just wanted Bucky so much in that moment, and no one could see. Surely they could stay like this for a little while longer, exchanging kisses and soft touches, before Bucky had to go back to work. Steve knew that he was working for the double time that came with working on a holiday; they needed it, and Bucky wanted to provide for him and Sarah, which was appreciated, it was just his poor luck that the holiday happened to be - and always would be - his birthday.  
  
"It is your birthday," Bucky conceded, his hands smoothing along the planes of Steve's back until they came to rest on his ass, firm and, surprisingly, reassuring. "Is this your present, then?" His tone was teasing, but Steve could tell by the way that Bucky held him that he wanted this too.  
  
"One of them," Steve replied, smiling against Bucky's skin before he licked along his pulse. "I'm getting another one tomorrow. It's arriving late, but it's the one I'm really looking forward to." There was no way for Bucky to mistake his meaning, nor did Steve think that he would even want to. It went without saying that whenever Sarah wasn't around, the two of them practically launched themselves at one another. And besides, as Steve kept reminding himself and Bucky, it was his birthday, after all. He was allowed to want such things on such an auspicious day.  
  
"That so?" Bucky teased, his hands kneading slowly through the fabric of Steve's trousers at the flesh of his ass. Steve made a quiet sound, nipping at Bucky's neck before kissing back over to his lips. "That's so," he breathed, their lips brushing before he kissed Bucky slowly. His fingers threaded through Bucky's hair, and Steve was acutely conscious of the sound of the water, of the creaking of the wooden dock above them, of the faint sounds of laughter and conversation trailing from the men who perhaps weren't as far away as Steve and Bucky would've liked, but were far enough.  
  
Bucky hauled him a bit closer, a hand smoothing up his back to curl at the back of his head, and deepened the kiss. He licked into Steve's mouth, all too easily but then again Steve wouldn't really say that he put up a pretense of modesty when he wanted so honestly, and their tongues lapped together slowly. It was exquisite, just as it always was, and Steve made another quiet sound as he pressed as close as he possibly could, flicking his tongue against Bucky's and shifting his hips a bit. That was a subconscious action on his part, but Steve was finding himself quickly desiring more than just kisses, their location be damned. It was his birthday after all, and he whined quietly when Bucky pulled back to nibble at his bottom lip just the way he knew Steve loved, only to kiss him that much deeper when he tugged Steve's head close.  
  
He wormed his hands from behind Bucky's head, down and over his shoulders, to rub against his chest slowly. Fingers caught on nipples, coaxing them to hardness with barely a touch, and Bucky was arching closer to him, very much dominating the kiss. If his goal was to steal the breath from Steve's lungs, he accomplished that task in another moment, leaving Steve pulling away and gasping for breath; any worry that Bucky might've had was calmed by the smile on Steve's face and the soft sway of his hips.  
  
"We shouldn't," Bucky reminded him quietly, his voice a bit low. "Someone could see, and I know it's your birthday, but-"  
  
"I can be quick," Steve promised, the words coming out a bit hurried. "I can, you know I can when I'm all worked up." That had long since ceased to be an issue between the two of them, and he'd learnt not to be embarrassed or ashamed of it. Bucky thought it was flattering, sexy, even, that sometimes Steve couldn't last, and it had never caused Bucky to delay his own pleasure, which was important, or so Steve thought. Sometimes, but very rarely, Steve couldn't get it up at all, simply because his slight body couldn't spare the blood. They did other things on those days, but Steve was sure that today, of all days, was nothing like that.  
  
"You can, hm?" Bucky asked speculatively, giving a few more glances around them, his fingers rubbing absently at Steve's scalp. "It's your birthday..." Steve nodded, licking at his lips, his hands still braced against Bucky's chest as he swayed his hips, grinding lightly in Bucky's lap. He was amazed that Bucky hadn't already started to respond yet, but then again, perhaps his friend was just more self-controlled than Steve could afford to be right now. Making a quiet noise in the back of his throat, Steve pressed his face to the crook of Bucky's neck, not at all liking how long this was taking, although he was more than understanding.  
  
"Okay," Bucky breathed against his temple, brushing a kiss to the soft heated skin. "Okay."  
  
"Thank you," Steve gasped, "Bucky, thank you-"  
  
"None of that," Bucky said sternly. "I want to, and it's not possible for me to resist you when you're like this, you know that, you little punk. You're taking advantage of me, Steve Rogers. Your mother would be ashamed."  
  
Steve laughed then, breathless and happy, and he could practically feel how pleased Bucky was. They didn't talk about it much, but Steve knew that nothing else meant as much to Bucky as making him happy, be it something small or large or even dangerous, such as this. Bucky Barnes lived for the moments where he could make Steve Rogers happy, anyone close to them knew it, and it was in large part what had endeared him so to Sarah as a young boy, the earnestness with which he devoted himself to Steve and bringing a smile to his face. Barely a moment passed and suddenly Bucky was working at his belt, unfastening it so he could turn his attention to Steve's pants. The zip and button went next, and Steve heaved a breathless sigh.  
  
He inclined his head and pressed wet, open mouthed kisses to the other man's neck, working his way from the hollow of Bucky's throat up to his jaw. Steve's hands mapped out the the shapes, dips and curves of his friend's torso as if he hadn't already memorized it by heart, but still felt so miraculous to him beneath the docks, the water sighing with him.  
  
"You're gonna need to be quiet," Bucky breathed against his ear, a hand worming inside Steve's trousers to cup his length in his palm, squeezing gently. Steve suppressed a whine, nodding against the slightly damp skin of Bucky's neck. "I can be quiet," he agreed, pressing into Bucky's hand, swaying his hips a little.  
  
"So quiet?" Bucky asked, a teasing note to the tone of his voice now, which Steve didn't mind in the least. He was lucky enough that Bucky was even doing this, he wouldn't push his luck by being the least bit petulant. "Quiet as a mouse," he affirmed, biting playfully at Bucky's neck, humming contentedly as he was rewarded with a soft groan.  
  
"Cheeky, Rogers."  
  
Steve didn't mind in the least, and yet he found himself gasping, "Can't believe we're doing this here."  
  
"Stranger things have happened in stranger places," Bucky chuckled breathlessly against the shell of Steve's ear, his hand pushing at the fabric of Steve's shorts until it was down just enough so that his hard cock was freed, curving up toward his belly and already leaking precome. Bucky whined then, low and heavy with longing, and Steve felt himself blush a little, though there was no cause to be embarrassed. It still just amazed him, knowing that Bucky wanted him so much. He couldn't quite wrap his head around it; why was he so desirable, skinny and sickly as he was, when there were men and even women out there who beat him in the looks department. However, he knew what Bucky would say - "There's no one better than you, Steve." - so he didn't bother voicing these doubts. Besides, he and Bucky'd had that conversation enough times that they were both sick of it.  
  
"Bucky," he whispered, tilting his hips toward his friend. Bucky nodded, pressing a quick kiss to Steve's cheek before bringing his hand up to his mouth, tongue laving over it generously. Steve's breath quickened just at the prospect of what he was to momentarily receive, and he pushed his hands through Bucky's hair, pulling back just a little so that he could watch this. He wanted to watch, always did, in the beginning, and he was rewarded with the sight of Bucky's hand wrapping around his length and beginning to stroke him slowly.  
  
"God," he moaned brokenly, belatedly remembering his promise to be quiet, and he quickly buried his face in the crook of Bucky's neck to smother the noises that he was sure would escape him, strength of will or no. "Good boy," Bucky murmured, kissing at his ear lightly. Steve kept his eyes shut tightly, colours bursting behind his eyelids as his hips undulated toward Bucky's touch, who kept stroking him maddeningly slow - until Steve bit at his neck, whining a little as his hips bucked toward Bucky's fist. Bucky had laughed, then, but it was a gorgeous sound, one that Steve loved, and it only served to remind him that he was here, beneath the docks with the man he loved, would always love, and he was being taken care of in the best possible way.  
  
"Imagine," Bucky said, voice low, "that we're in bed and I'm fucking you so good. You're so tight, Steve, the best I'll ever have. Can't wait for your mom to leave, I love her but god, I can't wait. I miss you, the way you feel, the way you move. Can't get enough of you. If I ever had a choice, I'd spend every day in bed with you, making you feel so good..."  
  
Steve whimpered, his hips twitching. Bucky knew that he loved when he talked his way through sex, or at least sexual acts; sure, it made Steve blush, but the words themselves went straight to Steve's cock, turned him on even further. "Bucky-" he gasped, fingers gripping at Bucky's hair and tugging a little. "Oh god, Bucky-" It was quicker than he liked, Steve wanted this to last forever and a day, but he'd promised that he would be quick, and he'd been turned on since he saw Bucky for the first time that afternoon, and he just wanted so desperately. "I want you to come, Stevie," Bucky continued, tongue darting out to lick at the curve of Steve's ear. Steve whined quietly, pulling his head back to kiss Bucky on the mouth quickly. "You're so gorgeous when you come, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."  
  
Bucky's words tripped Steve's climax, and just as he had been told, Steve was coming, a hand reaching down and pulling his shirt up just in time as he spilled over his stomach and Bucky's hand. A rather helpless-sounding sob left his lips as Steve was worked through his own climax, though it was a little muffled against Bucky's lips. His body trembled with the small aftershocks and as he began to come down, Steve looked at Bucky, a tremulous smile bending his lips. Steve pressed a gentle, lazy kiss to his friend's mouth again, his hand trailing up to Bucky's cheek to brush his fingers over the slightly flushed, damp skin.  
  
"Good," Bucky whispered, wetting his own lips, expression lax and bright with wonder. "So good, Steve."  
  
He brought his hand up, slick with Steve's release, and licked at his fingers and palm slowly, never breaking eye contact with the slight, panting man in his lap. Steve bit at his lip and smothered a moan; there was something so hot about that, Bucky licking his come from his hand, and it made him want more. What for certain, he didn't know. Just more. And he'd have it, he knew he would; as Bucky had said earlier, he couldn't resist him, he wouldn't be able to stand a chance when Steve asked him prettily if he could please return the favour, although he'd somehow already decided that he'd sweeten the offer later with his mouth rather than his hand, something that he knew that Bucky loved dearly and enjoyed even more.  
  
"Love you," Bucky murmured, his hands gently tracing along the sides of Steve's body.  
  
"Love you too." Steve said, and he would definitely never get tired of saying that.  
  
The two of them stayed still for a few more moments, giving Steve enough time to recover his breath. Before Steve could even think to pull away, Bucky reached his hand back down and swiped his fingers along Steve's stomach, gathering up the remaining fluid and licking that away as well. Steve groaned, and when Bucky grinned cheekily, giving an exaggerated lick over his fingertips, Steve chuckled and shoved weakly at his friend's shoulder, causing Bucky to laugh as well. He fixed Steve's clothes easily, pressing a few more kisses to his face and glancing around again, just to make sure that there were no wandering eyes, and then nudged Steve carefully out of his lap.  
  
"You..." Steve began, but Bucky shook his head. "You can return the favour later, Steve. I should be getting back to work, and you should get home so your ma doesn't worry, yeah?"  
  
Steve nodded, sighing a little. It was no more than he expected, really, and not being able to pay Bucky his due pleasure right now was only minutely disappointing, because it was understandable and he knew that he'd be able to do right later that night, Bucky fighting to keep quiet as Steve worked his tongue around his cock. He hummed lightly just at the thought, gathering up their trash and shoving it into the lunch pail. Clearing that up later would be just fine, he knew, and Steve let Bucky help him off the box and then up to the dock itself, no complaints able to be voiced. How could he begrudge Bucky anything, when he was always so good to him, least of all making him feel so wonderful only moments before?  
  
Their fingers brushed together occasionally as they walked down the dock, passing other workers and even a few women, likely come to see their men for lunch, just as Steve had done. Their hands brushing could easily be chalked up to an accident though, just happenstance; surely it was nothing to be concerned over. While it was still warm out, and Steve could feel sweat prickling at his back, along his neck and in the hollow of his throat, he felt wonderful, and he smiled subtly as he walked along with Bucky.  
  
"Good birthday so far?" Bucky asked idly as they stopped at the entrance to the docks, his hand fishing into his pocket to get out the money for Steve to take the train, handing it over so Steve could pocket it himself.  
  
"Great birthday," Steve affirmed, smile brightening as he looked up into Bucky's gorgeous blue eyes. The abject adoration on Bucky's face stole his breath away, made his heart feel full and his chest a little tight, but all in all, Steve knew that he was lucky, and he wanted to fall into this feeling and never move away from it. Bucky was the best thing in his life, and just being around him for lunch would've been enough to make this birthday a wonderful one, let alone what had happened beneath the docks. It pleased Steve somehow to know that it would be a secret the two of them shared, like so many other moments.  
  
"Good," Bucky replied fondly, ruffling Steve's hair. He glanced over his shoulder as one of his co-workers shouted out to him, and he waved it off, turning back to Steve. "I gotta go, but I'll be back by supper, promise."  
  
"So we can watch the fireworks?"  
  
"Yeah, Steve, so we can watch the fireworks. Birthday traditions and whatnot, can't actually violate so sacred a covenant as that," Bucky teased, tugging playfully at a lock of Steve's blond hair. It was obvious that neither of them particularly cared to part, but it wouldn't do to make a show of it, and they both knew that they'd be together at home later. Reluctantly Bucky pulled away, taking a few steps backward as he mimed giving Steve a few kisses, causing Steve to chuckle happily, swinging the pail in his hand lightly.  
  
Just as he turned to go, Bucky called after him, "You take that train, y'hear?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Steve said, waving over his shoulder.  
  
"And put aloe on your face and neck, Ma'll have my head if she thinks you got burned on my account!"  
  
Steve waved his hand again, sighing contentedly as he walked down the street, Bucky's voice and smile echoing in his head. He found himself whistling Gene Austin's latest as he made his way toward the train station, feeling as happy as he thought himself to possibly be. It was still early in the afternoon, but his day had already been made, and he knew that as far as birthdays went, this was one that he'd remember for a long time to come. **  
**


End file.
